No idea where this one came fromaramuinMarch 16 2006, 19:22:23 UTC
Lukas disappears from time to time.
Ken worried at first, trailing after him when the fear of loosing Lukas finally outweighed his reluctance to intrude. Lukas makes his way through crowded streets, wearing the slightly-out-of-fashion sunglasses Ken bought him for the summer. With his eyes hidden, he looks normal enough to pass through with only admiring looks and the occasional wolf-whistle.
There is a dark, possessive underside of him that gloats over Lukas's indifference to his admirers. The blond, bag over one shoulder, simply keeps going. He's so used to seeing Lukas at home, that Ken's forgotten how fast his lover can move when he wants to.
Lukas keeps going, threading through crowds and traffic until he makes it to the park. Ken, less adept at dodging and weaving, has to strain to keep an eye on him. He follows the blond into the park, past the more public areas and into the untidy copse of trees.
There's a old, Victorian boathouse here, almost buried under ivy and eager tree roots. Lukas sits on a weathered granite rock and starts to draw. Ken watches for a minute or two, then turns and leaves him be.
For this Sage who loves his little games it has been four thousand years of never-ending words. Lukas has fallen out of the habit of bantering: the maidens never challenged him and the kings never came to him for fun, and it has been a long, long time since he last had anyone to speak to casually.
Every so often he feels the lack when Ken teases him and finds himself at a temporary loss for any clever words. In those moments he fills every sense with his Sage, wrapping arms around him and claiming him with a kiss, a slow and sweet thing just to demonstrate how much he and his little games have been missed.
Ken worried at first, trailing after him when the fear of loosing Lukas finally outweighed his reluctance to intrude. Lukas makes his way through crowded streets, wearing the slightly-out-of-fashion sunglasses Ken bought him for the summer. With his eyes hidden, he looks normal enough to pass through with only admiring looks and the occasional wolf-whistle.
There is a dark, possessive underside of him that gloats over Lukas's indifference to his admirers. The blond, bag over one shoulder, simply keeps going. He's so used to seeing Lukas at home, that Ken's forgotten how fast his lover can move when he wants to.
Lukas keeps going, threading through crowds and traffic until he makes it to the park. Ken, less adept at dodging and weaving, has to strain to keep an eye on him. He follows the blond into the park, past the more public areas and into the untidy copse of trees.
There's a old, Victorian boathouse here, almost buried under ivy and eager tree roots. Lukas sits on a weathered granite rock and starts to draw. Ken watches for a minute or two, then turns and leaves him be.
He doesn't need to see anymore.
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Every so often he feels the lack when Ken teases him and finds himself at a temporary loss for any clever words. In those moments he fills every sense with his Sage, wrapping arms around him and claiming him with a kiss, a slow and sweet thing just to demonstrate how much he and his little games have been missed.
Reply
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